From Rum to Insanity
by Pale Sisters
Summary: When two teenage girls are abruptly transported to the world of PotC, things could get a little messy and hysterical.
1. Chapter 1

**The Pale Sisters present...erm...this insane fic that could potentially be very, very funny. Enjoy!**

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"Ouch!" Krystle grumbled to Becca. "This is why we should have two different computers."

"Precisely," Becca replied, glaring in absolute disgust at the misbehaving machine. Krystle was rubbing her fingers, refusing to even look at the computer, as it had caused the finger cramps she was now experiencing. "We'll never get anything accomplished if this thing keeps acting up. But also, if you weren't being an over-motherly figure saying we should do our homework, then you wouldn't have gotten hurt," she added, glaring back. "The real reason is that you don't like PotC."

"Oh, tis a shame, tis a shame, tis a mighty fine shame," Krystle said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Just because I don't drool over sir Captain Jack Sparrow..."

"When have you ever seen me drool?" Becca asked, willing Krystle not to know the answer.

"Hmm, let's see...in the movie theater, when you dragged me along? That strand of drool was about a foot long...and then, when it came out on DVD, I could have sworn you were about to lick the screen..."

"Seriously, I was drinking my Hawaiian Punch and it spilled all over me, that was totally not drool."

"Don't even pretend you can explain away the time when you leaned right up against the screen and there was no Hawaiian Punch in sight..."

"Whatever," Becca responded grudgingly and started to read her LOST magazine, which she was not drooling all over, thank you very much.

Krystle, meanwhile, turned away from the computer with a sigh and was leaning down to pick up the book she was annotating for her English class when she spotted something glinting on the floor, trapped in a shaft of sunlight. "Hey, Beck?" she asked curiously. "What is this thing?"

"Hmm, this will require closer inspection from moi." Becca said. Leaning over and clutching Krystle's arm for balance, she fell over, though she never hit the ground.

"I'm the one taking French, you oxymoron," Krystle grumbled, but then realized that her friend had, quite impossibly, vanished. "Beck?" she called uncertainly, and then looked down at the innocently glinting little medallion on the floor. "I know better," she told it, warning in her tone. "I know that you're just a thieving little..." Her voice dropped off suddenly. She leaned down, staring at the medallion. The pirate medallion, to be precise.

"Ah, you're not as smart as you seem, my dear," said a much too familiar voice.

Krystle shivered and glared around. "Beck, I know that's you. Now stop imitating Jack Sparrow and get your ass out here this instant!"

"Don't swear at me, kid, and I didn't say that. You did it, right?"

Krystle blinked once, and instantly realized that she had made her mistake. Gone were the surroundings of a late afternoon in the kitchen before a lazy computer; instead she could smell the sea and hear the gulls cackling. Staring around in horror, her eyes came to rest on none other than Jack Sparrow. Looking down at her hand, she realized that she clutched the medallion in her palm, although she was quite unable to remember picking it up.

"You dummy," Becca said jokingly. "I thought you hated PotC, now you're in my dream. This is a dream isn't it? I mean I'm half expecting to walk over to the end of the stage and there will be a huge fan blowing in sea air and everything." Becca looked really confused.

"Um, Becca, I hate...I hate to break it to you, but...I don't think this is a dream." Krystle knelt down and scooped up a handful of sand, then let it run through her fingers, slowly piling back up on the pristine beach that surrounded them. She looked up at Sparrow suddenly, who looked just as confused as either of them felt. "This can't be happening," she said shakily. "You're not real."

"If you want to see if it's real or not I'll pinch you!" Becca said, laughing. "I'll tell you this, that is the real deal," she said, pointing at Sparrow.

"This isn't funny, Becca," Krystle said, looking thoroughly lost now. "If we're really here...if that thing over there is really real...then we're in big trouble. We're stuck across the continuum of time and space, too far away for even a telephone to connect us with the people we love. Yes, even a telephone cannot help us," she said menacingly, hoping that Becca got the point.

"Oh, relax." Becca was missing the bandwagon. "We should enjoy this experience! It is vital to my survival that we do this! Really!" she said as Krystle glared at her. "I mean, you've got me, what more could you want?"

"What more could I want?" Krystle's voice rose hysterically. "Beck, you're my best friend, but have you stopped to think about everything we've left behind? Like our entire lives? And don't even suggest that we're going to get magically whisked back any second now! This isn't a fairytale! The only reason we're here is...is...and I don't even know!" She buried her face in her hands, dismayed at the possibilities of why they would be here, of all places.

"Oh, that is a conundrum, isn't it." A tear fell down Becca's face. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I'd much rather be in the company of my family than that of Sparrow." She shook her head and sat down.

"Ladies, I'm loathe to break up such a heart-stopping fiasco, but might I ask what you're doing here, invading my space?" Jack Sparrow looked oddly uneasy in the company of two nearly-hysterical females.

Becca glared at Jack, much to the amusement of Krystle. "Yeah, right now, you are way down low on our list of things to think about. If you catch my drift," Becca responded and started to hug Krystle; at that point, both of them felt extremely hopeless.

Unfortunately, just as Becca moved to hug her friend, her hand brushed the chain of the medallion that Krystle was holding.

She cringed at the touch and Jack noticed it. "What are you doing with that, ye lasses?" he asked, clearly surprised that these two crazy girls had come to him with something he wanted.

"We didn't find it on purpose, you know," Krystle began to retort hotly, but just as she did, she noticed that Becca's outline had begun to fuzz over at the edges. Becca looked down at her hands and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, and a second later, she was gone. "Becca!" Krystle cried, snatching at the spot where her friend had been only a second before. "Sparrow, I demand that you tell me what this thing has done to my friend," she snarled in a thunderous tone and started toward the pirate. Meanwhile, in a different place, Becca was reappearing...

"Ohmf!" Becca fell onto something very soft, conveniently in the shop of Will Turner, the very soft thing turning out to be, in fact, the owner. "Oh, sorry," Becca said, blushing.

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**Now there's this little button down there...review, if you please.**


	2. The Dread Pirate Sparrow

"And where may I ask did you come from?" Asked Will in his usual business-like way. Becca gaped, looking around. "Great, now I'm stuck in this warp-world. ALONE! Alone, no less!" Tears started to well up in her eyes. "I don't know how I bloody got here."

Will shifted his eyes to the door, _now if I can just sneak off whilst she's talking_, he thought. "I want you to do me a favor Mr. Turner. I need you to find Jack Sparrow." Will looked again, sighing.

"Madam, I do make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates." He looked at her imploringly, wondering why she would need to seek out this pirate.

"Er… um…" Said Becca, mumbling while thinking fast. "She was kidnapped by him, and I'm very worried about her. I mean, you've heard the horror stories of Captian Jack, haven't you?" I said, I hated to lie, but there could be horror stories about him, it didn't mean I had to believe them, right?

"Fine," Will seemed to grimace at me, as if he couldn't believe he was being dragged into finding the "dread" pirate Sparrow. "

"Come to think of it," I said stopping him. "How would you know where Jack Sparrow would be anyway?" Will gazed back at me, dazed.

"Miss, everyone knows where Jack Sparrow is, last night he conducted a raid on the town, you'll remember that he is the Captain of the Black Pearl." Looking at me pityingly, as if I were born yesterday.

I started to walk toward the door, hopeful that he'd join me. Looking down at myself, I realized that I was in full Elizabethan clothing, gone were my ripped jeans, black PotC tank, converses, and brown cap. Replaced by all of this was a massive dress, turquoise blue, heels, and a hat. Lovely.

As we walked out of the square, I began to wonder how Krystle was holding up.


	3. Being Marched Away

**Next chappie told from Krystle's POV. Enjoy, and review at the end, if you please.**

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I was not holding up very well at all, to say the very least.

My clothing hadn't changed; I was still in my usual outfit, which consisted of the old, ripped jeans, long black tee (this one read "Motocycle Babes, Biker Club" across it, which might take some explaining in this time period), and ratty old tennis shoes which I probably should have thrown out ages ago. My growing bangs fell over my eye, per usual, and I pushed them back behind my ear impatiently, though it was unlikely they would stay there for longer than five seconds, but at least it gave me a clear view of the increasingly irritated pirate standing before me.

"Give it here," Sparrow said importantly, holding out a blistered hand and beckoning. "You wouldn't want to be messing around with this."

"What has it done with Becca?" I demanded, struggling to keep my voice even.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "I have not an inkling. Just give it here."

"No," I said shortly, and carefully threw the medallion over my head, tucking it safely down my shirt. I glanced around the long beach, trying to mark the place in my mind, just in case I needed to come back. "Where are we?" I asked, but unfortunately, the dolt had already got distracted by my current state of dress.

"Look," I said, trying to get his attention, "it's weird, get over it. Where are we?"

"One of the far beaches of Port Royal," he said, frowning suddenly. "You don't recognize this? It's practically the most famous post in the Caribbean."

"Not from around here," I said shortly, trying to adopt his accent, which was difficult; British pirate rouge-ness wasn't my style. "Recent events or anything I should know about?"

He looked maddeningly curious about why I'd need to know, but obliged anyway. "Port Royal was just attacked last night by…" He smiled roguishly. "Well, none other than me. And you, somehow, unfathomably, know who I am."

"Jack Sparrow," I said impatiently. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Continue? Where are you headed to now?"

"It would be terribly foolish of me to divulge that privileged information to you," he said, suddenly smiling grimly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to come with me. Can't have you wandering all over the town shouting to the world that I'm still hanging round here." He reached out to grab my arm but I easily sidestepped his grasp, moving with the grace of a frequent runner.

In a flash, though, he had his gun out and cocked at my head. I stood quite still, though I knew there was no real danger. "You're not going to shoot me," I said, softly. "That shot's not for me. You're saving it, for someone else."

His face had gone oddly tense. "How do you know that?"

I shrugged. "Again, wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Before I could sidestep him again, though, he'd whipped around and grabbed my arms from behind, jamming them to my sides. A sharp blade was pressing to my back through my thin t-shirt, and I swallowed. A sword had quite unlimited shots. "You're coming with me," he whispered in my ear, and even though I told myself angrily to shake it off, the sound of his rough voice, so close to my skin, sent a shiver down my back. "And you'll tell me all these things I wouldn't believe even if you told me." With that, he marched me off, to where, I had no idea.

Bitterly and resentfully, I wondered how well Becca was getting on, and thinking that the next time I got a hold of her, I would simultaneously hug her and kill her for leaving me on my own with this moron.

I really hadn't ever liked pirates.


	4. Trustworthy? I Think Not

**Becca's POV, seeing a pattern here?**

I followed Will, he suddenly became quite wary of me, I already knew he didn't trust me. He started to peer over his shoulder as I examined everywhere, trying to get my bearings in a semi-familiar town. Will said that Jack was arrested after his unsuccessful raid on Port Royal. So we were headed towards the jail when I realized that Will was up to something. Sadly I was too late.

Trying to put myself in a pre-movie mindset, I realized that Will wasn't the most trustworthy person when it came to pirates. "Hey Will, uhm…"

My comment was interrupted by something colliding with my head with the force of what seemed like the blunt side of a sword, from a very strong arm. I looked for Will as I blacked out, realizing that Jack must be roaming free. And that he must take me for a lunatic… My thoughts at vision went black, as I felt myself being picked up and carried…

For some odd reason I began to wonder what Jack was up to with my sister. I doubted myself, seeing as Jack isn't what you call a noble person. He couldn't be doing any harm… could he?


	5. Aboard the Black Pearl

**Krystle's POV. Review, if you please.**

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It was thus that I was gagged, told to make a minimum of noise or I'd be struck on the head with that awful gun – I narrowed my eyes at the thing – and marched aboard the Black Pearl, a ship I wasn't too keen to really be on. Examine from a distance, when the crew was safely ashore? Certainly. But _not _when half-skeletons were wandering about it.

I forced myself to concentrate. The fact the Sparrow was the captain of the Black Pearl, or even allowed onboard without being attacked, made it likely that this was pre-POTC or post-POTC. I knew a moment later that it was pre-POTC, as Barbossa greeted Sparrow quite civilly. No matter of space or time after that movie would have brought them together again.

"What've you got here, Sparrow?" Barbossa growled as I was shoved, quite unceremoniously, up the gangplank. I turned slightly to glare at Sparrow, who was my height, but barely; he was rather short, I rather tall.

"Found her on the beach," Sparrow grunted, as I struggled to free myself from his grasp. "With this." I writhed away from his touch when his rough fingers brushed my neck to retrieve the medallion. Angrily, I yanked away, and he smiled, a cocksure smile that I wanted to shatter with my fist, if I hadn't been bound. "Calm yerself, lass, I wouldn't wound your honor," he said with the lilt of a sneer in his voice, and the crew nearby who heard laughed. He pulled the medallion from my neck and held it up; it glittered in the late-afternoon sunlight. "What do you reckon?" he asked quietly. "From Isle de Muerte, I suspect."

It passed into Barbossa's hands, and he examined it carefully. "Looks like it." He glanced at me. "Take the gag out, we need answers."

My hands were left bound, but the gag was removed. I looked at Barbossa haughtily. He stared back, unimpressed. "Where did you find this?" he asked, holding up the medallion by the chain.

I thought quickly. Did they know how to find Isle de Muerte? If they did, then I was fairly useless, but if they didn't, and I told them I'd found it there, then they'd keep me alive, at least for now. On the other hand, it would probably take me far away from Becca, wherever she was. In a split second, I made up my mind, held my chin up and said, calmly, "Isle de Muerte."

Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "How did you find the island?"

"I was a prisoner on another ship that found it," I said, inventing fast, blessing my imagination and my writer's mind. "When we got there, they tried stealing the treasure, but there was an…ambush…I was one of the only survivors. That was the only coin that made it." I nodded to the gold in his hand. "When the last of the crew died, after we reached a nearby island, I took it." They wouldn't know about the curse, not yet. I was safe, for now.

"Lock her in the holds until we need her," Sparrow said, speaking for the first time since I'd been brought aboard, and he gestured to a few of the crew, who came and shoved me quite forcefully down into the bowels of the ship. I was thrown into the dank, filthy cell, and immediately crossed to the scummed-up porthole, the only source of light.

It seemed unlikely that I could stage an escape from here or even keep up with this charade any longer, but I had to attempt an escape first – it was worth a try.


	6. Human Hair

**Becca's POV**

First, let me get one thing straight, I hate jails. Especially ones made before what is now known as "the indoor toilet". Not only was the smell repulsive, the company was as well, it seemed as though this was the first woman they'd held in their cells since a rogue pirate, "Bess", was tried and later let go because she was with child. Yet this news didn't excite me. I was beyond emotion, almost like that feeling you get when you realize that all hope is gone. It was right for me to think this, seeing as I had no clue where Krystle was and that I was stuck in jail.

Somehow I needed to get out of this cell, for a few minutes I entertained myself with trying to get out with some blasted leverage. Thinking of Will then made me even more furious. I slammed my arm against my cell; it did nothing except give me a horribly large bruise and a buzzing pain. Sitting down on the stale hay and dirt that was the jail floor, angry tears welled up in my eyes, yet I would not allow them to fall. I seemed to disappear under the layers of my dress and its' petticoats.

There was no way that I'd be able to break out of this jail cell, I had nothing to take the cell apart, the bench was right outside my cell, nor did I have even close to the amount of strength to open it. My only hope was tempting the jail dog with a bone, which was funny considering how well it worked for Jack.

"Ok, ok, I can deal with this. I guess I can anyway…" The pirates in the cell next to mine were all looking at me oddly. "What?" I spat back. "You've never seen a lady talking to herself? _Without thinking she's crazy, of course_" I sighed and resigned myself to sitting, quietly, in the cell room.

_Fifteen minutes later_

"Fine! I can't deal with it.. This depresses me you know." While I talked, the pirates next to me were trying to lure the jail dog with a bone, my thoughts were interrupted by their taunting. "You can keep doing that forever, the dog is never going to move." I couldn't resist using the line from that movie.

They all glared at me, "What would a lady know of it?" They snarled back.

"_A lot more than you, I'd think, I'd hope anyway_." I said silently as I gazed back at them. Anyone could tell that they'd been in both jail, and in the pirate business for quite some time. Their clothes were tattered, some wore mangy bandannas, bleached by the sun. Their faces were pock-marked, and their teeth were rotting away. As I gazed at them, I realized that I'd been feeling my teeth, just to check that they were still all intact. I'd just gotten my braces off so I was still getting used to the whole no metal in my teeth effect.

"Do you men know Jack Sparrow?" I pondered, gazing at them, wondering if Jack actually had a crew at the moment.

"Jack Sparrow? Captain Jack? Yeah, we know him, interesting pirate, like to show off his skills, especially at the pub." I realized that this was pre-movie Jack (not like they'd know what in the blazes I was talking about if I'd told them) I played with the thought of telling them that I knew what would happen to him. Well, why not. It's not like I had anything better to do. Jail isn't fun and games you know.

"Do you know that Jack will soon be the victim of a horrible mutiny led by his treacherous first mate Barbossa?" I could tell that I'd gotten their attention, they all gazed at me, openmouthed. "Yes, and then he'll be put on a desert island, where he'll be left to die. Yet what he'll do is wade out in the water, for three days straight, until all the sea creatures get used to his presence. Then what he'll do is rope a couple of sea turtles together and make a raft." They looked at me appalled. "Know what he used for rope?"

They shook their heads, "human hair, from his back." Alright, now they knew that I was a kook, didn't matter to me. That's how I liked people to think of me.


	7. Together Again

_Very long time between updates, I know. The younger pale sister has been irresponsible and distracted for several months, but she's getting it back together now and the brain power outages aren't happening so much with her older sister constantly prodding at her. _ _The pale sisters are back...with an extra long chapter for you._

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Krystle and Becca sat desolately on the beach of a desert island, Krystle with a stick in her hand, doodling something in the sand, writing words that made no real sense as they kept being washed away. By now, her jeans were very ragged at the bottom, and had acquired the permanently wet look of walking through the ocean, tidemarks halfway up her calves. The look in her eyes made it clear that something immense had happened only hours earlier - perhaps sooner - and that she was exhausted from whatever effort it had required.

Becca's clothes had since turned to dirty rag-ish remnants. There were other ways to get out of jail without using some leverage, but they weren't pretty. She laid down on the sand, trying to relax. All she wanted to do was sleep, and forget about what had happened. Krystle sat next to her, she hadn't said what she'd done yet, but Becca could tell that it was just as much as what she went though.

Krystle traced another pattern of nonsense words through the sand, now scowling, and finally said aloud, "If I'm ever captured by pirates again and forced to attempt an escape through a porthole, just shoot me and end my misery, eh?"

"Only if you talk me out of flirting obsessively with a royal navy guard. You must realize how disgusting that was. I don't resort to flirting to get out of situations... Well, you'd better be glad I did it or I never would've gotten out and seen you on the beach." She cringed at the thought, and grimaced to her sister.

Despite the absurdity of Becca flirting her way out of prison - or perhaps, because of it - a slow smile spread on Krystle's face. "You know, there's something to that," she said casually, giving up on the stick and tossing it into the water. It'd been a long time since she'd smiled like that. "Gotta give you props for your skill with royal navy guards. That guy's going to be pining for you for a while, you totally broke his heart by leaving." She grinned wickedly now, scuffing out the words she'd written with the heel of her hand.

Becca smiled, trying to glare at her sister. "Oh yes, it's good to know that I have traits that turn on a royal navy officer. Come on darling, you know that I'd much rather have a pirate." She winked and looked back out to sea, smiling faintly.

Krystle rolled her eyes. "Hate to break it to you, _darling_, but those pirates aren't exactly chummy. Well, they are, but to an unfortunate extent. Breath smells rather bad and their teeth are rotting. Hair's disgusting, too. And the smell. God. I'd pick a royal navy officer any day." She frowned again, writing more and scuffing more out, always in the same familiar pattern, though she didn't know quite what she was doing, just giving her fingers something to do.

"Hmm, guess so. What are you drawing?" Becca looked at the design made in the sand before it was washed away.

"Dunno, actually." Krystle tilted her head to the side to squint at what she was drawing. "Saw it in the cell those..." She said a word that made her older sister frown at her. "What? Too much hanging around California people in the past while. Anyway, saw it in the cell." The symbol - for that's what it was - was a crude version of the medallion, not at all detailed.

Becca looked at the drawing before it was again washed away. "Why don't you draw it farther away from the shore." She cupped her hands in the water and got some sand wet. "Draw it there."

"You know me, I like the symbol of time." Krystle caught Becca rolling her eyes at her. "Yeah, I know, I'm a hopeless writer with a strong taste for large shots of symbolism. But sure." She doodled the design again, muttering something under her breath about the destruction of such a good analogy to life.

Becca looked bleary eyed at the symbol. "You know, it looks like an hourglass, which is a pirate symbol that was used on Jolly Rogers signifying that time was running out, which was usually followed by a skull or a sword. Not too long until your death." Krystle stared at her. "So I know my Jolly Rogers! So sue me!"

"No, I'm staring at you because..." Krystle glanced at the symbol again, and wiped it out angrily. "I mean, sheesh, Becca, are we ever going to get out of here? Or is our time really running out? I don't want to spend the rest of my life on this abysmal island. Home isn't the greatest, but I mean, I'd prefer a change of clothes. And a hot shower, for God's sake."

"Mmm, really." Becca rubbed her eyes, grimacing as her fingers turned black. "Maybe a shower then a fresh coat of eyeliner. That'd be fantastic. Great thing about pirates, always have kohl handy." She looked to her sister, who glared back. "Alright, alright, enough with the fascination with pirates."

"Yes, enough about the fascination with pirates. I could dig a new coat of makeup, too, though, myself." She grimaced. "And, you know, sunblock. Because my pale skin cannot take anymore of this abysmal Caribbean sun." She gave a heavy sigh and winced when she pressed her fingers to her cheeks. "Blushing is fine, but not a permanent one."

"Ha, blushing, good one. Sunblock would be good, Aloe Vera would also make me a happy girl." They seemed to lose all consciousness of their surroundings and it was almost as if they were back in their messy dorm room.

Krystle grinned. "That stuff's a miracle worker. Wonder if there's any of it buried on this island?" She laughed out loud for a moment, the sound ringing against the crash of the ocean. "No, there's probably just half-empty bottles of rum stashed around. Though that could get some good use." Her sister glared, and she said quickly, "Only joking, only joking. You know I'm sober."

Becca searched the island. "Well, there may not be Aloe Vera, but that kinda looks like the plant version, see that over there?" She gestured towards some foliage. "Those palm tree like leaves coming out of the ground, if I'm not mistaken, that's what will make us happy."

Krystle grinned again, quickly, before it faded. "Right. Let's hope it's not something that'll make it worse, eh? I don't want to deal with itching uncontrollably whilst stuck on this abysmal island."

"Well, let me be the first to try." Becca walked over to the plant, examining it before carefully pulling it out of the ground. She peeled it in half and took a deep breath. "If this isn't Aloe Vera I'm Sparrow." She took a small amount between her hands and rubbed it on her face, sighing contentedly.

"You'd better not be Sparrow, or I'll have to kill you. He's a walking nightmare." Krystle grabbed some of the plant and smeared it on her face, too, and then the two looked at each other and laughed, because it was so silly: feeling content because even though they were on a nasty desert island, they had each other and a plant that made things more bearable.

"Good stuff that." Becca smiled through her green-sheened face. "Now, if only we had a little bit more back hair." She sighed.

"True. But us, being such beautiful women, wouldn't have that." Krystle grinned again, then felt her teeth and grimaced. "Gross. I need a toothbrush now. And toothpaste. Next on my list for ways of making life better. Clean teeth."

Becca smiled mischievously. "You know, you could just use some material from your shirt, then you wouldn't have any plaque.

"Yeah, plaque. Entirely my first worry right now." Krystle glanced toward the edge of the island, squinting against the entirely-too-bright sun. "What're we going to do to get out of here, anyway? I don't fancy spending the rest of my life on this island."

Looking inward, Becca pondered Krystle's statement. "Well, I don't fancy staying on this island either, but I still don't understand how you got us on this island."

"The medallion, eh? Lemme see it?" Krystle took the medallion from Becca, careful not to touch the actual medallion, only the chain attached to it. "That's how you got here. Somehow, you touched it shortly after you flirted your way out of prison..." She paused to snicker, but when she caught Becca's glare, she quickly silenced herself. "...and it sends you places. Not sure if there's a pattern or anything, still trying to figure that out, but...as for how I got here: porthole. It was decaying. Golf is great for upper body strength." She shrugged. "Broke it open when I saw the island and swam to shore. Wasn't long after that you popped up."

"But how did I have the medallion in the first place if it was hanging around your neck?" Becca pondered.

She shrugged. "I didn't have it, that's the thing. Whatever I put around my neck..." She tugged it out of her shirt and showed it to her older sister. "Cheap plastic. It was on the beach. Needed it so Sparrow would find me valuable, as in, not worthy of shooting. The real thing disappeared when you did."

Becca gazed at the medallion from Krystle's hands. "I guess I didn't notice that it was around my neck because everything happened so quickly. What I wouldn't do to get back there." She was starting to picture the merits of flirting.

"Yeah, things happen fast. Like, uh, life in general. Stop daydreaming about your royal navy boyfriend, eh? We've got a mass exodus to plan." The attempt at grandeur wilted. "Well, we've got an attempt off this island to plan. If that thing isn't sending us back anytime soon..." She threw a disgusted glance at the medallion, half-rage, half-melancholy. "...then I want to get on living in this time period."

Becca mused, "What if we touch the medallion again? I mean what's the worst that can happen? We already know that it'll transport us somewhere. If it takes us home then hopefully we can get some much needed supplies and maybe we can get back here. Yet it probably will take us somewhere else." She gazed intently at the medallion, secretly willing Krystle to agree with her.

That telepathy thing always worked on Krystle, for some odd reason. She shrugged. "As long as we don't go anywhere where we can't, you know, breathe. And this time, stick together, eh?" She reached out to grab her sisters arm before positioning her hand above the medallion. "On the count of three?"

"Of course." They chanted together. "One, two, three!" A second later they fell into a grassy plain not far from a small hut. Krystle, who hadn't seen the second movie yet, had no clue where they were. Becca on the other hand knew that there were cannibals on the island, she quickly ran into the hut, remembering what was in it. She rummaged through the stuff in the hut, dreading to think what'd happened to the owners of all this stuff. She grinned as she spotted a box filled with accessories and makeup. "The chances" She chuckled and turned back to Krystle.

Her younger sister leaned against the doorway warily, arms crossed over her chest, surveying the threshold critically before strolling in. "The chances," she repeated, grabbing a cold, wet rag and wiping it over her face, breathing deep the clean smell of soap. "Care to explain where we are, oh obsessive sister who has seen the films numerous times?"

Her sister laughed. "We are in the store room of these cannibals who take Jack to be their god who must be freed from his earthly bonds, thus they must kill him. So they pretty much do that with all their victims, their possessions I guess all end up here." Becca walked over to some hanging swords. "Look at this craftsmanship." She gazed longingly at them all individually before picking out one with a green and silver hilt. "Well, I don't think the last owner has much use for it anymore. Pick one out."

Krystle stared at the swords for a long moment, turning thoughts over in her mind. _A sword. Damn._ In all of her wildest fantasies, she'd never imagined that one day she would actually be standing before a rack of these incredible weapons, picking one out. Finally, she reached out and chose one with a hilt wrapped in worn, dark brown leather, crisscrossed over with fine silver wire, sapphire centered on the hilt, and elegant, long creation. She hefted it in her hand briefly, then flashed a grin at her older sister, grabbing a belt and buckling it on. "Fantastic, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it almost looks elfish in design." Becca looked back at hers, admiring the sleekness of the blade and the design of the silver hilt. Now all she needed was a good hilt. She looked around the room. Krystle must have read her thoughts because she handed her a plain leather hilt, with green ties at the end. It seemed, and probably was made for the sword. She looked around the hut, using a burlap sack as a sort of shopping bag, putting in a helmet here, a thing of spice there. Krystle looked on in bemusement.

"You enjoying yourself, oh wise planner of all we will ever need?" Krystle watched as her sister piled things into the bag. "Whatcha packing for, anyway?"

"Well, you never know when you'll..." She was interrupted by voices coming from outside. "Get over here, right now." She hissed to Krystle.

She didn't need telling twice; the younger of the two leapt to Becca's side silently as possible, hand tense on the hilt of the newly acquired sword, listening hard. "Who d'you reckon?" she asked softly, eyes on the door.

"I think it might be the jolly lot who think that we'd be quite tasty." The door opened slowly, a potbellied native came in, his attire was simple, nothing but a necklace of what might have been fingers on his chest and a red cloth wrapped around his waist like a dress. He was alone.

"Oh, the joy. I don't feel like being eaten for...what time of day is this again?" Unfortunately, the sound of Krystle's voice, though lower than most in pitch and in volume, attracted the attention of the entering person. His head swung around and focused on the two girls, eyes narrowing. Krystle tensed immediately, the instinct to _run or he's going to freaking kill us_ kicking in and surging through her bloodstream.

"Ok, on the count of three, I want you to run, I'll be right behind you." And of course, Becca didn't sound as brave as she would've liked to have been. "Ready?"

"Run my ass." She didn't even blink when Becca raised her eyebrows at the expletive. "And leave you here on your own? Not a chance, my dear sister. We run together, or we fight together. And make your choice quickly, because he looks about ready to make his."

"We'll attack him from both sides!" She suddenly sprung up, scared from her own impulsive behavior. Snarling, she advanced.

Krystle did the same on the other side, her sword sliding easily from the sheath as though she'd done this all her life, though it was admittedly heavier than she expected in her hands. The man who'd burst into the cabin looked somewhat puzzled - and angered - at the sight of two girls with long, sharp metal advancing on him.

"I hope he runs out of the hut. He'd better, I'd rather not run him through. It's so easy it's completely scary," Becca said through clenched teeth while still trying to unnerve the native.

"Don't much feel like becoming a murderer, myself," Krystle added to Becca's statement, testing a slash through the air with the sword. The power scared her. "Eh, why don't you just run along, huh?" she said loudly, raising her voice and making a jabbing motion with the sword. The native took a step back. "Out, eh? Don't want to become a killer for you, really."

"Krystle? Where's the medallion?"

"Um." Krystle glanced around the hut and spotted it near the box of makeup. "Over there."

"Fend him off for me will you?" Becca ran over to the makeup box, she gingerly picked up the box and hefted the sack into her one arm. She charged to Krystle, reaching with her free hand.

Krystle held the sword carefully, keeping the native at bay. "You got a plan or something?"

If the situation wasn't dire, Becca would've laughed at her sister. "Of course I have a plan, now give me your hand."

Krystle grabbed Becca's hand, still clinging to the sword with the other, fending off the native, who was grumbling and starting to shuffle forward. "Good. Time for the plan to go into action, then."

Becca reached with Krystle's hand towards the box with the medallion on top. "This had better work," she yelled in anticipation.

"Yeah, you're right, it'd better," Krystle muttered in reply, grabbing onto the medallion, and with no grandiose affect, they were gone, the native left blinking stupidly at the spot where they'd vanished.


End file.
